


Chase the Morning

by ThornWild



Category: Cyberpunk & Cyberpunk 2020 (Roleplaying Games), Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 2020, Angst, Bisexual Johnny Silverhand, Consent is Sexy, FTM V, Friends With Benefits, Johnny is a bro, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Plot With Porn, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Substance Abuse, Trans Character, Trans V (Cyberpunk 2077), V is an Aldecaldo, Vaginal Sex, emotionally stunted idiot, farming, tragic backstories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29852034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornWild/pseuds/ThornWild
Summary: Johnny Silverhand is an expert at self-deception, but if he’s honest for once, he has to admit he was already attracted to V on some level. Beyond being kinda cute, he’s just . . . pleasant to be around. He’s chill and laid back in a way not many people in Johnny’s life have been. Johnny’s an intense person, and he surrounds himself with equally intense people, oftentimes with explosive effect, and not always in a good way. V has a way of just allowing him to be. As the camp goes to sleep around him, Johnny makes up his mind.————————Johnny's been on the road with Santiago's Aldecaldos for years. Upon their return to California, they join up with another group and Johnny meets V, who's just some kid, really, but then maybe not. When Johnny finally decides to return to Night City, V comes with him. Johnny wants to bring Samurai back together, and to do that there's one person he needs more than anybody else: Kerry Eurodyne. Kerry, who hasn't seen Johnny in six years and is really pissed.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & V, Johnny Silverhand/V, Kerry Eurodyne & Johnny Silverhand, Kerry Eurodyne/Johnny Silverhand, Kerry Eurodyne/V, Kerry Eurodyne/V/Johnny Silverhand
Comments: 31
Kudos: 46





	1. Do It With a Rockstar

**Author's Note:**

> In Detachable Penis, another fic I'm writing, there's a bit where Kerry tells V: ‘Kinda wish you’d been around back then. Maybe you could’ve been a friend to him, reached him in a way none of us could.’ And that gave birth to this idea. What if V had been around back then? Could he have tempered Johnny a little bit before he self-destructed? That's what I'm aiming to figure out. Thanks for coming along for the ride!
> 
> Love and thanks go out to [shenanigan_manifesto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenanigan_manifesto/) for helping to beta this story. <3
> 
> This first chapter is named after [a song by Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EsmFrOzqfw).

Johnny stares out the passenger side window, cigarette in hand. The window’s down, and he takes a drag, blowing smoke out into the passing wind. He hasn’t been back to Night City in years, but now they’re headed that way, he can’t help but miss the place. He wonders how much it’s changed. How much the people have changed.

As they enter California, they join up with another, smaller Aldecaldo group. There’s only a dozen or so of them and Johnny’s introduced to their leader, a woman named Yanna, who’s more than happy to cede her authority to Santiago. Johnny’s introduced to a number of her family members, but none of their names really register. As they get on the move again, he does make note of Yanna’s son, however.

The kid’s a good shot and a better mechanic. He always seems to be tinkering with something; usually his bike. Not half bad with computers either, as Johnny comes to learn. He’s barely out of his teens, by the looks of him. And he always seems to be watching. Not in a creepy way, just occasional curious glances.

Johnny dismisses him as just another fanboy at first. But then he hears him plucking the strings of an old, battered acoustic guitar in front of the fire one night. He’s not very good, but he’s got feeling, and he’s playing some old seventies rock song. It makes Johnny smile, and before he knows it, he’s sat down next to him.

‘You’ll wear out your thumb holdin’ the neck like that,’ he says.

The kid stops playing. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Here. Gimme.’ Johnny holds out his hand and the kid passes the guitar over. Johnny pulls it into his lap. ‘Look. You wanna grip it like this. Use your whole palm to support it. You’re movin’ your whole hand around every time you change chords, gonna wear you out. All you need’s your fingertips, keep the rest of your hand still.’ He passes the guitar back.

The kid takes it, tries to do what Johnny did. ‘Like this?’

‘No, no. Just, play a G major.’ The kid does as he’s told and Johnny covers his hand with his own, fitting his metal fingers on top, manipulating the younger man’s hand until the neck of the guitar is safely nestled in his palm.

‘My fingers are too short,’ the kid complains. ‘I won’t be able to reach.’

‘You will. Just takes practice, you’ll get there.’ Johnny pulls his hand away.

‘Okay.’ The kid looks at his hand, changes the G into a C. It’s slower and clumsier now, but once he gets it, it’ll take a lot less effort than the way he was doing it. ‘Thanks,’ he says, turning his head and smiling at Johnny.

‘You’re welcome.’ Johnny pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. ‘What’s your name, kid?’

‘Vincent. But everyone just calls me V.’

‘Okay, V. Keep practicing, you’ll get it.’ He listens as V starts playing again, keeping half an eye on his left hand to make sure he’s still doing what he was told. Seems he takes instruction well.

* * *

The next several evenings Johnny spends in V’s company. Some nights, they jam together—one evening he’s feeling particularly charitable, Johnny lets V play his guitar; the kid treats it with the reverence it deserves and Johnny’s pleased—some, they just sit, having a drink and smoking; sometimes cigarettes, sometimes weed. They don’t talk much, just hang out, and Johnny finds himself enjoying V’s company.

One night, they’re sitting up on a rocky hill, overlooking the camp. They left their guitars down by the fire, opting for some peace and quiet. Johnny’s smoking. V’s just sitting there, leaning back on his hands. At last, he speaks.

‘So, you got anyone waiting back in Night City? Input? Output?’

Johnny scoffs, looking away. ‘No. There’s no one like that. Some friends, maybe. If they’re still my friends.’ He gives V a sidelong glance and finds the boy giving him a certain _look_. ‘Gonna stop ya right there, V. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not usually inclined toward cock.’ _Usually_ is the operative word here, but V doesn’t need to know that. He’s a cute kid, but the last thing Johnny needs right now is a groupie.

‘Well. Lucky my cock’s optional, then.’ V shrugs.

Johnny raises his eyebrow. ‘Wha—Oh. You’re . . . ?’

‘Yup.’ V plucks the cigarette from Johnny’s hand and takes a drag. ‘You want pussy, I can give you pussy. Haven’t had bottom surgery.’

Johnny looks at him, then. Really looks. At the messy, purple-pink undercut growing dark at the roots and fingers stained with engine grease. At strong, bare arms with crude, home-made tattoos. At his smooth face, freckled and sunburnt, with wide, hazel eyes. Johnny always assumed V was just very young. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-four,’ V replies. He smiles. ‘Bet you thought I was about eighteen, didn’t you? It’s the trans dude curse.’ He laughs. ‘That plus good genes equals forever baby-faced.’ He takes another drag before passing the cigarette back to Johnny. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not in love with you or nothin’.’ He gets up off the ground and stands up straight, sticking his hands in his pockets. ‘Just thought you might wanna have some fun. You can come by my tent later if you do. Third on the right from the garage.’ Then he walks off without waiting for a reply.

Johnny hangs back for a bit, finishing his cigarette. Then he goes to get a drink—shot of tequila because what else—and all the while he’s thinking. Johnny Silverhand is an expert at self-deception, but if he’s honest for once, he has to admit he was already attracted to V on some level. Beyond being kinda cute, he’s just . . . pleasant to be around. He’s chill and laid back in a way not many people in Johnny’s life have been. Johnny’s an intense person, and he surrounds himself with equally intense people, oftentimes with explosive results, and not always in a good way. V has a way of just allowing him to _be_. As the camp goes to sleep around him, Johnny makes up his mind.

He finds the tent easily enough, pulling the canvas aside to look in. A solar lantern illuminates the space, and V is sitting on a fairly sturdy-looking cot reading a screamsheet. His acoustic guitar is stashed against a crate, next to its case. V is wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, and when Johnny steps inside, he looks up and smiles. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Johnny replies.

‘You made up your mind.’

‘Yeah.’ Johnny takes a few steps closer, standing at the foot of the cot. V stands, dimming the light. Johnny makes note of strong, muscular thighs as he moves. They stand face to face for a few moments, neither of them making a move until V reaches out with his hand and cups Johnny’s jaw, then slides his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Johnny surges forward, capturing V’s lips, and V tightens his grip, kissing him back. After a moment, he goes for Johnny’s throat, licking and sucking while he slides his hands up under Johnny’s tank top. V’s hands are warm on his skin. He moves them down again, taking a hold of Johnny’s belt and unbuckling it. Undoing the fly, he slides a hand down Johnny’s leather pants, taking him in hand. Johnny throws his head back with a hiss. He’s fucked a few of the women in the pack over the past few years, but it’s been a while now since anyone’s touched him. Now V wraps his hand around his cock, stroking slowly.

Pulling back, V meets Johnny’s eye. ‘Okay if I suck you off?’

Johnny laughs softly. ‘You really don’t need to ask permission for that.’

V shrugs one shoulder. ‘You seemed reluctant before. Just wanna be sure you want this.’

‘I want it,’ Johnny says simply. He reaches out and runs his right hand through V’s hair, down his neck and to his shoulder, pressing down, and V gets to his knees on the canvas floor.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Johnny, V pulls his pants down to his knees to reveal his cock. His eyes flick down for a moment to look at it, and he licks his lips before looking up at Johnny’s face again. He opens his mouth and, taking hold of Johnny’s dick, licks the length of it, from root to tip. The way he holds eye contact while he does this makes Johnny’s heart pound extra hard. It makes the whole thing somehow feel a lot more intimate than most other sexual experiences he’s had.

V sucks the tip of Johnny’s cock into his mouth, running his tongue over he head, before he takes him deeper. At this point, he breaks eye contact for obvious reasons. Johnny slides his fingers into V’s hair, tightening his fist a little, and V makes a soft ‘Mmf!’ sound around his cock. He grabs Johnny’s ass with both hands, squeezing the supple flesh and taking him deeper still. He’s good at this, and the fact that he seems to enjoy it turns Johnny on even more.

‘Fuck, V,’ he murmurs. ‘You keep goin’ like that, I ain’t gonna last long.’

V pulls back a little, Johnny’s cock slipping out of his mouth with a wet pop, and looks up at him again, mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Well, the aim here is to make you come, y’know.’ Then he returns to his task, and Johnny tries very hard not to moan out loud; these tents are many things, but soundproof is not one of them.

V pulls Johnny’s hips toward him, and Johnny gets the hint and starts fucking V’s face with shallow thrusts. Suddenly, he feels a finger edging its way in between his cheeks. V pulls back enough to look up at his face, a question in his eye, though he keeps his mouth on Johnny’s cock. Johnny nods. ‘Keep going,’ he whispers.

There’s saliva on V’s chin, and now he gathers it up with his fingers and reaches around again, circling Johnny’s asshole lightly. Johnny grunts and thrusts deeper into V’s mouth. As V slowly sinks his finger inside, Johnny hisses, holding back a groan. ‘Go . . . go on,’ he manages to say, and V’s finger goes all the way in, searching. It’s not the best angle, but it still feels good. Johnny’s close. He can feel his balls begin to tighten. ‘V, I’m gonna . . . I’m about to come.’

V responds by opening his throat and swallowing him down, and Johnny comes with a stifled grunt, fingers tightening in V’s hair, his metal hand clenching at his side. He can feel V swallow around him. Finally, the younger man pulls his finger out of his ass and sits back, coughing a little and wiping drool off his chin. He flashes Johnny a smug grin, and Johnny gets the urge to wipe that grin off his face, so he grabs V’s arm and pulls him to his feet.

He kisses V, putting both arms around him this time and drawing him close. He can taste his own cum on V’s tongue, but that’s never bothered him. He pushes V back, sitting him down on the cot. Johnny gets to his knees and pulls V’s boxers down. He’s wearing a harness underneath, with a prosthetic penis.

‘Gimme a sec, I’ll take this off,’ V says. Johnny watches curiously as V removes the harness and lays it on top of a crate, prosthetic still attached. V follows his gaze. ‘Never been with a trans guy before, have you?’

Johnny shakes his head. ‘No, I have, but he had phalloplasty.’

V smirks. ‘Thought you said you weren’t “inclined toward cock”.’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Actually, I said “not _usually_ inclined toward cock”.’ V laughs and Johnny looks up at his face, where his eyes glint in the low light. He slides his hands up V’s thighs; they’re as firm and muscular as they looked. Biker thighs, accustomed to gripping a machine that hurtles through the desert at a hundred miles per hour on a slow day. ‘Might even have made you one of the exceptions, if you’d had one,’ he finally admits.

‘Yeah?’ V wears a half smile. ‘Good to know. To be honest, I’ve been with enough guys who are so scared of their sexuality they can only fuck a dude if he has a cunt.’

‘I mean, I’d be lying if I said the cunt wasn’t a plus.’ Johnny pulls V’s legs apart to get at the thing in question. He trails the fingers of his right hand up the inside of V’s thigh, enjoying the way the breath catches in V’s throat as he nears his prize. He opens him up, sliding his middle finger inside. He looks up at V, eyebrow arched. ‘Wow, you’re really wet. Sucking me off turned you on this much?’

V bites his lip, looking self-conscious for the first time since Johnny’s known him. His freckled cheeks are flushed. ‘What can I say? I like sucking cock. And yours . . . I really like yours.’

Despite his recent orgasm, Johnny’s flaccid cock twitches a little at that. ‘Hm, wanna fuck you,’ he murmurs. ‘But I need some time before I can do that.’ So instead, he lowers his head and, spreading his labia apart with his fingers, sucks V’s clit into his mouth. It’s a good two inches long, more like a small dick than anything. He licks with his tongue and sucks on it, and V lets out a shaky breath.

‘Ah, fuck . . .’ he whispers, running his fingers through Johnny’s hair. ‘Fuck yeah . . .’

Johnny hooks V’s knees over his shoulders and slips a second finger inside him, and V’s thighs begin to shake. He must have been pretty close already, because it doesn’t take long before his hips buck and his body goes taut and he lets out muffled groans that tell Johnny he’s covering his own mouth with his hand so he won’t make too much noise.

Johnny sits back on his haunches and wipes his mouth, V’s legs slipping off his shoulders. He’s starting to get hard again now. Standing up, he sheds the rest of his clothing. He motions for V to get all the way up on the cot. Lying down next to him in the narrow space, he helps V get his shirt off, then rolls on top of him, kissing his lips. ‘That was hot,’ he whispers.

V laughs softly beneath him. ‘I came in like a minute.’

‘Yeah, but I like that. Shows how much you wanted it.’

‘Guess I was a little pent up,’ says V. ‘Haven’t been with anyone in a while.’

‘Me neither,’ says Johnny. He kisses V’s neck, lips trailing down the length of it to his shoulders and his chest. He finds the faint traces of surgical scars below V’s pecs, but it’s well done. He doubts he’d be able to tell if he didn’t already know. V’s nipples are a little bigger than most guys’ and the left one is pierced. Johnny tries licking the other one, but V shakes his head.

‘Sadly doesn’t do anythin’,’ he says. ‘Lost most feelin’ in them when I had my top surgery. Shame too, used to really turn me on.’

‘Now that is a tragedy,’ Johnny agrees. ‘So, what does get you goin’? Other than sucking dick?’ He smirks.

V gives a little smile and looks away. ‘Honestly? I just like bein’ touched. And kissed. Boring answer.’

‘Not boring,’ says Johnny, sliding his organic hand up V’s side, his abs and chest, to the side of his face and up into his hair. ‘Seemed to like it when I pulled your hair a little bit, though.’

‘Yeah, that was nice,’ V admits, meeting Johnny’s eye again. ‘Mostly, I just want you to fuck me, though.’

Johnny laughs. ‘Gonna need another minute, but I’m gettin’ there.’ He kisses V’s neck again, scrapes his teeth over his throat experimentally, and V gasps. ‘This okay?’ Johnny asks.

‘Mhm . . .’ V closes his eyes, a noticeable shiver going through his body as Johnny goes lower, sucking a bruise into the skin over his collarbone. He runs the cool metal of his left hand up the outside of V’s thigh. Not everyone likes that feeling, but V seems to. He leans into all Johnny’s touches and kisses, hungry for it. Johnny slips his right hand between V’s legs again, and feeling how pouring wet he is, along with the way V’s body responds to his touch, is all Johnny needs to get fully hard again.

‘Fuck, you’re hot,’ Johnny murmurs. ‘Think I’m ready. Got a condom?’

V nods, and Johnny raises himself up on his arms so V can roll to the side and reach into a box on the floor next to his cot, pulling out a condom. ‘Here.’ He lies back again.

Johnny puts on the condom, watching V as he does. The flush in his cheeks. The rise and fall of his chest. There’s anticipation and want and a little bit of impatience on V’s face, and as soon as the condom is on, Johnny positions himself between V’s legs and slides home. They both groan at the same time, a little louder than they should, and V laughs. Johnny cocks an eyebrow at him. ‘What?’

V shakes his head. ‘Nothin’. Just realised Johnny Silverhand just said I was hot. If someone told me two weeks ago I was gonna be fucked by a rock god, I would’ve asked what they’d been smokin’ and where I could get some.’

‘That why you wanted this? ’Cause I’m a rockstar?’ Johnny can’t explain to himself why that thought leaves a sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s why most people wanna fuck him, after all, and he’s always been fine with that.

‘What?’ V frowns. ‘No! I wanted it ’cause I like you and figured it’d be fun for us both. It’s just . . . funny.’

Johnny shakes his head, disbelieving. ‘How do you get away with being so goddamn earnest all the time?’

‘I dunno.’ V shrugs. ‘It’s a talent, I guess. Now, are we gonna yap all night or are you actually gonna fuck me?’

‘You little shit,’ Johnny says without malice, pulling back his hips and slamming back in, hard. The cot creaks beneath them, but it holds. V moans way too loudly, and Johnny quickly kisses him to muffle the sound. ‘Am I gonna have to gag you?’

V grins. ‘Or just kiss me more. That’ll probably do the trick.’

He barely has time to finish his sentence before Johnny starts moving. V bites his lip and wraps his legs around Johnny’s hips, and Johnny has his forehead pressed to V’s so they’re breathing the same air and he can kiss him whenever he starts to get too loud. It’s a pretty good arrangement, actually; Johnny finds he enjoys kissing V. V’s mouth is hot, his lips slightly chapped from all the time spent outdoors in the dusty Badlands, though still full and supple. Johnny likes the way he reacts to being kissed; the small, needy noises he makes. And there’s nothing timid about the way he kisses back. His mouth _demands_ Johnny’s attention, and Johnny is happy to provide.

It’s not the only thing Johnny is happy to do. V’s cunt is warm and tight and feels so very good after the dry spell he’s had. What’s even better is the way it tightens around him as V gasps, ‘Coming!’ into Johnny’s mouth before kissing him harder. Johnny takes V’s hand, lacing their fingers together and pressing it into the mattress, picking up speed and fucking into him harder. He’s getting closer himself, and the second time V gasps and tightens like that, Johnny comes too, burying himself balls deep, then pumping his hips a few times before collapsing on V’s chest.

They lie there in silence for a little bit, V running his fingers lazily through Johnny’s hair. He lets out a satisfied sigh. ‘Not bad, Silverhand.’

Johnny props himself up on his elbow, staring down at V with his eyebrow cocked. ‘That all you got? “Not bad”?’

V laughs. ‘What were you expecting? I ain’t one of your groupies.’ He smiles. ‘And I think you like that.’

‘I do, actually,’ Johnny admits.

‘Good.’

And because they’re in bed and it feels like the thing to do, Johnny kisses V again, more sweetly than he normally kisses the people he fucks. Then he sits, disposing of the condom, and reaches for his clothes.

‘You can sleep here if you want,’ says V. His voice is soft and drowsy now.

‘Nah, don’t wanna crowd you. ’Sides, I need a smoke after that. Wanna join me?’

V chuckles. ‘Nah. Too tired. Think I’m about to conk out . . .’

Johnny looks at him and finds himself smiling. V looks thoroughly fucked out, which was, of course, the intention. ‘You’ll get cold,’ Johnny says and grabs the blanket that halfway fell off the cot while they went at it. He spreads it out over V, who hums sleepily.

‘Didn’t know you were such a mother hen.’

Johnny scoffs and starts pulling his clothes on. ‘Fine, I won’t be nice, then.’

But then he feels a hand touch his hip and he turns his head to look down at V, who smiles up at him. ‘Thanks.’

‘Yeah, no problem.’ Johnny gets the rest of his threads on, then reaches for V’s solar lantern and extinguishes it completely. ‘G’night, V.’

‘Night, Johnny,’ says V, stifling a yawn, and Johnny leaves the tent, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket.

He lights one and takes a drag, blowing out a puff of smoke into the cool night air. He sets off toward his own tent. That was . . . weird. Johnny’s fucked a lot of people. He’s had angry sex, passionate sex, anonymous sex, rough sex and gentle sex. He’s had spectacular sex and utterly forgettable sex. This was, honestly, none of those things. It was good, though. Casual but companionable. If there is such a thing as just a friendly fuck, that’s what this was. And Johnny has to admit . . . he liked it.

* * *

For reference, this dork is a rough approximation of V in this story. Hair's not quite right, and there are no tattoos in the game similar to what I imagine he has, but close enough.


	2. Country Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dark and dusty, painted on the sky. Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye. Country roads, take me home to the place I belong._
> 
> In which V is a farmer and there's exposition!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: recreational drug use
> 
> I don't need to tell you which song this chapter is named after. But I do need to tell you which VERSION of that song! Did YOU know there's a cyberpunk version of Country Roads? [Well, you do now](https://youtu.be/u1_dy1EmV6w)!
> 
> I've chosen to use the 2020 definitions of input and output, in which output is boyfriend, because that's when this story is set, and those definitions make more sense to me from a hardware perspective (though I find the terms cisheteronormative and a little gross).

V normally rises with the sun, but today he finds it’s already high in the sky and peeking in through the small gap in the tent opening by the time he opens his eyes. He’s naked, and his mouth tastes like dick since he fell asleep before he had the chance to brush his teeth. He could do with a wash, but for that he has to get dressed first. It’s days like these he misses the farm the most and its large boiler that gave easy access to enough hot water for a long shower in the mornings. Not to mention proper privacy in there. The solar showers in camp work just fine, but while V is comfortable enough with his body, he doesn’t like broadcasting his birth sex to people who are, as yet, strangers. So far, he doesn’t think anyone’s seen. Anyone but Johnny, that is.

He pulls on a pair of loose cargo pants and a t-shirt with the faded logo of a band that hasn’t existed in three decades—a keepsake from his father. Grabbing his toothbrush and a cup of water, he steps outside, squinting into the sunlight. A passing member of the pack whose name V can’t remember waves at him.

‘Morning, V. Epic bedhead, choomba. You get laid or somethin’?’ The man cackles and passes on before V has time to answer, and V wonders if he and Johnny were seen or if the guy was just making a joke. He runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to tame it, but he knows it’s no use; it’s always curly and unruly in the mornings.

V brushes his teeth next to the tent, spitting the toothpaste on the ground and pouring water over so it’s absorbed into the dry earth. Then he puts his toothbrush in the cup, returns it to his tent, and heads for the camp kitchen.

He’s unused to this many people. Not that he minds—V isn’t shy or timid, bearing an air of confidence in most things he does—but it’s been ten years since he’s been part of a group this large. A decade ago, his family found an abandoned farm where the soil had started to recover and there was a nearby clean underground water source, and they decided to settle down. V’s mother Yanna and her brother had taken their partners and kids away from the pack. They had always been farmers before the Collapse and the lure of having that kind of life again was stronger than any ties to the Aldecaldos.

And it had worked out. For a while.

V finds Yanna near the kitchen. Someone’s cooked up some kind of breakfast hash—potatoes and protein, mostly—and there’s a fresh pot of coffee. ‘Morning, Vincent.’ Yanna ruffles his hair and kisses his cheek. ‘Up late last night?’

‘A bit,’ says V, and gladly accepts the coffee cup she offers him. ‘Was just hangin’ out with Johnny. You seen him this morning?’

‘I think he went out with Santiago on a job.’

‘Oh.’ V takes a thoughtful sip of coffee. ‘Well, I thought I’d head out and check on the farms today. Should be about harvest time.’

‘Good.’ Yanna nods. ‘Take Ainsley with you.’

V rolls his eyes. ‘I can handle it on my own, Mom.’

‘You can,’ she agrees, ‘but Ainsley needs to learn.’ She sips her own coffee, her eyes—the same hazel as V’s—fixed squarely on his. It’s the mom look and the pack leader look all mixed into one, and it brooks no argument.

V sighs. ‘Fine, fine. I’ll take her. Lemme get some breakfast down and go wash up.’

‘Of course.’ Yanna smiles.

* * *

Having completed the aforementioned routines, V and his cousin hop on their bikes and head out. By ‘the farms’, Yanna was referring to a collection of small hydroponic cannabis crops they’ve got scattered about the region. It’s V’s project, first and foremost. He picked abandoned shacks and farmhouses that look unassuming and were long since robbed of anything valuable. Inside, he set up solar-powered UV lamps and self-recycling automatic sprinkler systems. He has about half a dozen such locations, all growing OG Kush, plus a couple of places where he cures the buds. All are hidden away and locked up tight with both physical locks and security systems only an expert Netrunner could hack open. The family’s always kept within easy distance of them, although that may change now that they’ve joined up with Santiago.

Ainsley is eighteen, excitable, and smart. A little louder and more upbeat than most people V enjoys spending time with, but he likes her well enough all the same.

‘You’ve been hangin’ out with Johnny Silverhand a lot,’ she says over radio as they’re riding through the desert.

‘A little,’ V replies. ‘He’s cool.’

‘He’s so awesome. And, like, super hot! I can’t believe you and him are chooms!’

‘Okay, first of all, he’s fifteen years older than you. And second, I think chooms is taking it a little far. I barely know anything about him, we just smoke and drink and play guitar.’

‘Yeah, but you’re playing guitar with _Johnny fucking Silverhand_ , cuz!’

V laughs. ‘Okay, yeah, that part’s pretty cool.’

There’s silence for a few minutes, then Ainsley speaks again. ‘Bet he’s had groupies younger than me.’

‘Maybe, like seven years ago. A lot less creepy.’

Ainsley huffs but drops the subject. V’s grateful. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to tell anyone what happened last night. He doesn’t want to. At least not before he’s talked to Johnny. He’s a little disappointed that Johnny took off before they had a chance to speak. He feels like he needs to reiterate and make clear that he’s not a groupie and there are no feelings involved here, beyond friendship. He gets the feeling a lot of people fuck Johnny for status. He doesn’t want to be one of those, and he’s not looking for an output either. It was fun, though. V really wants to do it again, because Ainsley’s right; Johnny’s hot. Plus, that big cock . . .

V shakes himself. Not the thing to be thinking about right now. Besides, they’re coming up on the first location.

* * *

It’s a gun run. Johnny and Santiago pick up the weapons from an arms dealer and deliver them to a small settlement that’s been plagued by Raffen and need the means to defend themselves against further attacks. Johnny would rather they use them to defend themselves against evil corporations, but way out here there’s very little the corps want.

The settlement is in what remains of an abandoned small town. The houses are run down, but the inhabited ones have been patched up pretty well. Kiefer, a middle-aged man who acts as sherriff more than anything else, offers them a beer, and they sit and talk on his porch for a while. ‘Yeah, it’s been rough makin’ it work out here,’ he says, taking a long swig. ‘But we’ve been here three years now and managed well enough.’

‘How do you feed yourselves?’ Santiago asks.

‘Oh, we actually have an agricultural scientist here. We call ’er Dr. Wendy. She’s set up some hydroponics facilities. Nothin’ fancy, but it keeps us fed when there’s nothin’ else comin’ through. Got some chickens too. Other’n that, we trade with Nomads like yourselves, and when it’s necessary, we head to the city. Only when necessary, though.’

‘Which city is closest from here?’ Johnny asks. He doesn’t quite have his bearings out here in the Badlands.

‘Night City.’ Kiefer takes another sip of beer, smacking his lips. ‘Takes a whole day just to get there, though, so it’s rarely worth it. There’s enough salvage left here to make most things we need. Got some good craftspeople with us. When we do go to the city, we often got things to sell. Keeps the cash flowin’ for emergencies, like now.’

They chat for a while longer, then Johnny and Santiago accept their eddies and take their leave. They’re on their way back to camp, Johnny in the passenger seat smoking out the window, when Santiago bluntly breaks the silence. ‘So. Does Yanna know you’re fucking her son?’

Johnny isn’t really surprised he knows. Santiago keeps up with everything that happens in the pack. Part of being a leader. Part of being a _good_ leader. But so is minding your own business, and Johnny finds he’s a little annoyed. ‘Not unless someone told her.’

Santiago nods, keeping his eyes on the dusty road. ‘Little young, isn’t he?’

So that’s one thing Santiago doesn’t know. ‘He’s older’n he looks,’ Johnny says. ‘He’s twenty-four. I’m not cradle-robbing.’

‘Huh. Okay.’ And Santiago says nothing more on the subject.

When they get back to camp, V isn’t there. Johnny gathers from overheard conversations that he’s gone off to some farm with his cousin, though no one says anything about what farm that is. It’s not important. It shouldn’t matter. They fucked, it was nice, end of story. But for some reason, Johnny feels like they should talk, and so he waits by the fire that night, plucking at the strings of his guitar, but no V appears and in the end, Johnny goes to bed. He struggles to fall asleep, an inexplicable lump of anxiety making its home in his stomach.

When he still hasn’t seen V by noon the next day, and Johnny happens to find himself in the camp kitchen at the same time as Yanna, he casually asks, ‘Where’s your son? Feel like I haven’t seen him in a couple days.’

‘Off doin’ some work with his cousin Ainsley,’ she says. ‘They radioed in this morning. Got caught in a small dust storm yesterday. Nothin’ major, but it wasn’t safe to ride in so they ended up staying overnight at one of the farms. Should be back by evening.’

‘Right.’

‘Nice of you to help him out with his guitar playin’,’ she continues. ‘He’s never had a teacher before.’

Johnny shakes his head. ‘I’m no teacher. Just giving ’im some pointers, is all. Be a waste not to. Kid’s got some talent.’

She smiles. ‘Don’t know where he gets it from. I can’t keep a tune to save my life. Our family’s always been farmers. Well, until the Collapse, anyway. Tried to pick it up again a few years ago, but . . .’ She makes a face. ‘Shouldn’t’ve tried to go it alone. Not safe out here.’

‘What happened?’ Johnny asks.

‘We managed to bring some life to soil that should’ve been barren. What do you _think_ happened? Some corp swung in to find out how we’d done it. Tried to buy us off, but that was our farm, goddamnit.’ She sighs. ‘We refused to sell. One night, we were attacked. Seemingly by Raffen, but they were too well equipped for that. Either corporate soldiers posing as Wraiths, or Wraiths supplied by the corp. Either way . . . Vincent’s father was killed, one of my brother’s partners, his daughter . . . and my son. My _other_ son. He was twelve.’ This clearly hurts to talk about. Her hands shake as she gets out a pack of smokes. Johnny reaches into his pocket for his lighter and lights her cigarette for her. She takes a deep drag before continuing. ‘I swear, I woulda fought those motherfuckers to the death, but Jon, my brother, he convinced me we should flee. For the rest of the kids’ sakes. So we grabbed what we could and ran. That was five years ago.’

Johnny can only stare at her for a little while, processing what she just told him. A corp murdered V’s dad and younger brother? That’s fucked up. Finally, he swallows and says, ‘Well, shit. I’m . . . sorry.’ He wets his lips, looking away for a moment. ‘Which corp?’ he asks at last. ‘Arasaka?’

Yanna shakes her head. ‘Biotechnica. Always thought they were supposed to be one of the good ones. Restoring the ecosystem. Making the world actually habitable again.’

‘No such thing as an ethical megacorp,’ Johnny says darkly.

Yanna smiles wanly. ‘You wanna know the saddest part?’

‘What?’

‘There was no secret. There was nothing special about us, or the water, or the soil, other than that it’d recovered a little more than most places. Less acidic. We used the same, well-known, tried and true methods for improving bad soil that’ve been used for centuries. Planted alfalfa first. For the most part, we just got lucky. I told ’em that.’ She takes another drag off her cigarette, holds it for a moment, and blows it out again. ‘They didn’t listen.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Johnny says again, because he can’t think of anything else. ‘Fucking corpo swine,’ he adds, just to say _something_.

‘Amen, brother.’ Yanna takes a deep breath and seems to shake it all off at the exhale. She’s been leading her family for years. She knows how to be strong. She’s had to be. Her easy smile back, she says, ‘Anyway, I got some work to do. Vincent will be back before sundown. You can talk to him then.’

* * *

V returns home that evening to find Johnny having a drink by the fire. The sun isn’t completely down yet, but it’s getting chilly. Instead of immediately changing his clothes and having a shower, which he really needs, V goes straight over to him. He remains standing. ‘Hey, Johnny.’

Johnny, who was staring into the flames, looks up at him. ‘V. How you been?’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘Why d’you smell like a weed plantation?’

V laughs. ‘’Cause I run a weed plantation. Well, several little farms, I guess.’

‘Oh.’ Johnny looks at him for a moment. ‘So that’s the farms everyone was talkin’ about, then.’

‘Yeah. I got six little hydroponic facilities hidden away.’

‘That the same pot we’ve been smokin’?’ Johnny asks.

‘Yeah. I cure it myself. It’s a good source of income too. I paid for my transition with that scratch. Used to grow some on our old farm, but . . .’ He makes a face. He doesn’t really feel like telling Johnny that whole story right now.

Johnny surprises him by saying, ‘Yeah, your mom told me what happened there, with Biotechnica. I’m sorry.’

‘Huh.’ V frowns. ‘Wait, you talked to my mom?’

Johnny shrugs, draining his glass. ‘I was wondering where you were,’ he says with an air of complete nonchalance.

‘Were you worried about me, Silverhand?’ V teases.

Johnny scoffs, rolling his eyes. ‘You wish. Go change your clothes, man. And bring back some of those buds. I’ll be here.’ He picks up his guitar from where it rests against the side of his camping chair and starts strumming it, not looking at V.

Smiling at Johnny’s defensiveness, V does as he’s told. Once he’s showered and changed, he gets a small bag of pot from his stash and debates whether to bring papers or his bong. He settles on papers in the end. It’s gone dark by now. The camp is abuzz with life, people talking and drinking and playing cards. Several people give him a wave, tell him they’re glad he’s back, and he smiles and waves at them all. V’s easy manners have always made him an instant favourite wherever he goes, and this pack is no different.

Johnny’s sitting at a slight distance from the rest of them, though. V pulls up a plastic lawn chair next to him and gets to work rolling a joint. Johnny’s still playing, improvising something, but his attention is on V, and V can feel it. He glances at Johnny. ‘What?’

Johnny shakes his head. ‘Nothin’.’

V lights the joint and takes a couple of hits, then passes it to Johnny, who stops playing and puts down his guitar. V watches as Johnny fills his lungs. Letting the smoke out again, Johnny says, ‘We should talk.’

‘Guess so,’ says V, taking back the joint. He takes a moment, speaking only after another hit. ‘You don’t have to worry.’

‘About what?’ Johnny asks.

‘About me. My feelings or whatever. I meant what I said the other night. I’m not in love, I’m not a groupie, I just thought we could have fun. And if it was just a one time thing for you and you wanna leave it there, that’s fine.’

Johnny nods slowly. ‘Okay. But what do you want?’

V shrugs. ‘I wanna do it again.’ He grins. ‘I had fun. I think you did too.’

‘I did, as it happens,’ Johnny agrees. V passes him the joint and he takes a drag. ‘We can keep doing it if you want. Long as you’re sure you don’t want anything more.’

‘More than just fucking?’ V asks, and Johnny nods. ‘No, not really. I mean, I’d like to be your friend, but other than that, no. Just this is fine.’

Johnny gives him a crooked half smile. His posture is relaxed now. ‘Well, we’ll see about the friend thing.’

They finish the joint and then V stands up. ‘I need to eat somethin’. Haven’t had a proper meal since yesterday morning.’

Johnny stares in disbelief. ‘Why the fuck you come talk to me before you’ve even eaten, ya gonk?’

V laughs and shrugs his shoulders. ‘People are more important.’

Johnny scoffs. ‘People suck.’ Then he gives V a sidelong glance and amends, ‘You suck marginally less than most people.’

‘Bona fide love confession, comin’ from you,’ V says, eyebrow cocked. ‘You goin’ soft?’

Johnny stands up as well, ignoring him. ‘Think I’ll come with you. Could do with a bite myself.’

‘The more the merrier, man.’ V walks ahead of Johnny toward the kitchen, smiling to himself. After the couple of days he’s had, he could do with a good fuck. He has a feeling he’ll get one tonight. As long as he plays his cards right.


	3. The Grudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Clutch it like a cornerstone, otherwise it all comes down. Justify denials and grip 'em to the lonesome end._
> 
> In which Johnny is an emotionally stunted idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: PTSD, tragic backstory, war flashbacks
> 
> Chapter named for [this song by Tool](https://youtu.be/3BXyEUOuNds).
> 
> Huge, epic thanks to the enablers at Lizzie's and particularly the cool cats in the #Johnny channel who helped me keep him in character and suss out his backstory (and invent it where it was lacking).
> 
> Also, this chapter is almost as long as the two previous chapters combined. For this I refuse to apologise.

V is lying on his stomach, Johnny’s weight pinning him down to the cot. Johnny presses his hot mouth to the soft skin behind V’s ear, groaning, ‘Fuck! Gettin’ close . . .’

‘Fuck, yeah,’ V mumbles into the pillow, arching his back. His heart is pounding, his body going taut as Johnny hits just the right spot. Johnny’s breath on his skin and his soft groans in his ear are enough to drive V over the edge.

‘That’s it,’ Johnny murmurs. ‘Ah! _Fuck_!’ His hips come to a stuttering halt and he holds still for a couple of seconds before pumping in and out a few more times. Finally, his body relaxes and he kisses the back of V’s neck several times. ‘You good?’ he murmurs against V’s skin.

‘I’m good,’ V confirms, smiling. Johnny’s lips feel nice. ‘You?’

‘Yeah.’ Johnny shifts a little, pulling out. ‘Had fun.’

‘Good.’ V remains on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms, while Johnny stands up and disposes of the condom. They’ve been fucking for about two weeks. It’s good sex. Comfortable and uncomplicated. V gazes at Johnny, taking in his tall and lean frame, his long legs and well-defined torso. Watching him move naked around the tent with the dim lantern light reflecting off the metal of his arm is really something. ‘God, you’re hot,’ V says without thinking.

Johnny glances at him, eyebrow cocked. ‘Thanks. I mean, I know.’ He smirks.

‘Cocky bastard.’ V grins. ‘Wanna share a blunt before you go?’

‘Sure.’ Johnny sits down naked at the foot of the cot while V leans over the edge, rummaging in his box for a pre-rolled joint and his lighter. He lights it and takes a hit, then passes it to Johnny. Johnny breathes deep. ‘This really is some preem shit you’re growin’,’ he says, and he sounds genuinely impressed.

‘Yeah, I’m proud of it,’ V says, smiling. ‘Been doin’ it for years.’ He sighs. ‘Not sure what’s gonna happen to my crops now we’re back with the Aldecaldos, though.’

‘What do you mean?’ Johnny asks.

‘Well, it’s fine long as the pack stays in this general area, but . . . I mean, we’re nomads. Eventually we’ll move on. And honestly, I like being a nomad. I grew up that way, and when we were settled on the farm I missed it. Missed waking up in new places, seeing new sights, new people. I was born a nomad and I always figured I’d die as one.’

‘It suits you,’ Johnny says, passing the joint back.

V nods. ‘But I also like growin’ things. Eating or using something you grew yourself, it’s . . . it’s just a good feelin’.’

‘What was it like?’ Johnny asks. ‘On the farm, I mean.’

‘It was nice. Different pace. A little boring, only having the same people to talk to all the time. It was Mom, Dad, my little brother and me. Then there was Uncle Jon, his output and two inputs, one of whom was also my dad’s input for a while . . . The four of them had eight kids between ’em.’ V laughs. ‘There’s some debate on whether my cousin Will might actually be my half-brother, ’cause Bethany and my dad got together around that time, but he looks more like Uncle Jon.’

‘One big, happy poly-am family,’ Johnny remarks.

‘Yeah. It was good, though. All six of ’em raised us together. Like, I knew who my biological mom and dad were, obviously, but Tommy, Bethany and Uncle Jon are just as much my folks as Yanna is, y’know? Felt nice and safe, havin’ that many grownups lookin’ out for us.’

‘And the other kids?’

‘Well, out of the ten of us, I was the oldest. I was thirteen when we split from the pack. Second oldest was Leah. We were close.’ V’s heart aches when he thinks of her. ‘She, uh . . . she and her mom, Lara, they were killed when the farm was attacked. Along with my dad and my brother Chris.’ He takes a deep breath. This hurts to talk about, and he tries to move the conversation away from it. ‘Anyway, Will and Ria, who were born on the farm, they never even differentiated when they were little. All the adults were mom and dad.’

V takes a deep drag off the blunt, pulling smoke into his lungs. It helps dull all the feelings this conversation has stirred up in him. He’s feeling mellow and sleepy now, and he lies back, looking up at the canvas ceiling of the tent for a few moments. Johnny plucks the joint from his lips. V glances at him. ‘What about your folks? Got any family?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Aldecaldos’ve been my family for six years now.’

‘Yeah, but where are you from?’

Johnny seems to hesitate. He pulls on the joint, holding the smoke in for a while before blowing it back out in a small cloud. Finally, he speaks. ‘College Station, Texas. Place really went to shit in the nineties. And my family are all dead.’ His voice is steady, devoid of emotional inflection, as if he were talking about the weather. ‘US government really fucked us over. I mean, they fucked everyone over tryin’ to save their own necks after the Collapse, but . . . Yeah. My dad, my brothers, my sister . . . in the end it was just Mom and me. We made it to Arizona not long before Texas declared independence. Mom took to drugs. OD’d on . . . somethin’. Not even sure what. I was about fourteen at the time.’

‘Shit,’ V murmurs. ‘Fuck me, Johnny, I’m sorry.’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Not long after Mom went, the Second Central American Conflict started. Army needed soldiers, so I enlisted. Had fuck-all elsewhere to go. They didn’t care that I was just a kid, long as I knew how to hold a gun, which I did. Sent me to Nicaragua and then Mexico. Got my arm blown off, but they needed bodies on the ground, so the military replaced it. Fought for those fuckers over a year. Then I deserted, fled into California, and ended up in Night City.’ He brings the joint to his lips again. His fingers are shaking, and V sits up, covering Johnny’s hand with his own.

‘I’m sorry I asked,’ he says softly. ‘You okay?’

Johnny turns his dark eyes on V in a cold glare and snatches his hand away. ‘I’m fucking fine.’

V frowns. ‘Johnny, c’mon . . .’

Johnny passes him the joint and stands, gathering up his clothes. ‘I said, I’m fine. Mind your own fucking biz, _Vincent_.’ His voice is icy, and he makes V’s name sound like a curse.

‘Why are you angry at me?’ V asks helplessly. ‘Look, I’m sorry I asked, okay?’

Johnny doesn’t answer. He pulls on his clothes and rushes from the tent, leaving V naked and alone on the cot and letting the cool evening air inside. V feels cold now that his sweat has dried, and he takes a final drag off the blunt and puts it out before pulling the blanket over himself. ‘Well . . . shit,’ he says to no one in particular.

* * *

Johnny strides furiously through the darkened camp. It’s late and most of the nomads are asleep. He goes to his tent, rummages through his belongings for a bottle of tequila he knows he has stashed somewhere. He needs to not feel right now. He can’t even explain where this rage is coming from, but if he doesn’t find a way to get rid of it, he’s not sure what he’ll do. He wonders briefly how livid he’d be if he hadn’t just smoked pot. He’s supposed to feel mellow right now. Sometimes, when he’s like this, he’ll find someone to fuck, but he just left the most obvious candidate naked and confused in his tent, so that ship’s sailed. Drinking is next on the list.

He finds the bottle, pulls the stopper and takes several long swigs. It stings going down, and Johnny coughs. Between the tequila and the Kush, his throat burns. ‘Fuck,’ he mutters. ‘Fuck!’ He almost throws the bottle, but then that would be stupid.

Johnny hasn’t thought about his past in a long time. Not since he wrote and recorded _Sins of Your Brother_ , when he put all the pain, all the blood and agony and regret from the war into music, hoping for some sort of catharsis. And it worked for a while. Since then, he hasn’t thought about Nicaragua or Mexico, or the weeks he spent at that crappy motel in Pacifica drunk and high and staring at a ceiling fan. Hasn’t thought about the man who took a bullet for him, even though he still wears the guy’s dog tags around his neck. He grasps them now, clenching them so tightly in his fist that it hurts. And he hasn’t thought of Texas or Arizona for even longer. He takes another big sip of tequila and sits down on his cot, staring at the tarpaulin floor.

Why the fuck did V have to go and ask about this shit? Something about V makes him _want_ to open up, and he hates it. Hates V for being so kind and earnest and inquisitive. Hates him for inspiring trust and making Johnny feel relaxed and somehow safe enough to talk, when he’s not safe at all. He’s never safe, and he hates the kid’s stupid, honest face.

He realises he’s shaking, and he takes another drink, reaches into his pocket for a cigarette and lights it clumsily with his right hand, bottle still clutched in the metal grasp of his dominant left. It refuses to let go, holding onto the bottle like a lifeline.

When he closes his eyes for just a moment, images flash through his mind. He imagines the sound of machine gun fire, the smell of dirt and blood. He sees men and women being gunned down around him. And further back, his sister dead, face down in the dirt. He opens his eyes again, sucks on the cigarette like he’ll die if he stops. He can’t smoke and drink at the same time, though, so he takes it out so he can wash down the smoke with more booze.

A quarter of the bottle is gone already. Johnny realises his heart is racing and his breath is coming in short staccato bursts. His face is a little wet and he tells himself it’s sweat. He takes in deep lungfuls of smoke, drinks more tequila, and slowly his mind gets quieter and his breath comes more easily. His heart is still racing, and he feels hot, but the rage has dulled to a smoulder. He stands up and feels immediately dizzy. He needs to piss.

He has the presence of mind to stopper the bottle before he puts it down. Then he stumbles from the tent, out into the cool night. Shambling away from camp, he pisses up against a cactus. He’s tired now. Exhausted, actually. He can no longer remember why he was so angry.

Somehow, he makes it back to the tent and his cot. He passes V’s tent on the way. It’s dark and quiet, and part of him, in his drunkenness, wants to go inside, sleep in there. Not sleep alone. But he has a strong feeling he shouldn’t, though he can’t recall why it wouldn’t be appropriate right now.

He crashes on his cot and falls asleep fully dressed.

* * *

It takes V a long time to get to sleep. He finally drifts off in the wee hours, but wakes up at his usual time, not long after sunrise. He’s exhausted but gets up anyway. Even after years with the nomads, Johnny’s still on rockerboy time, so he usually gets up quite a bit after V. But by noon, V still hasn’t seen him.

He swallows his concern. After their . . . fight? V’s not even sure what actually happened. He knows Johnny can be standoffish and even a little mean on occasion, but last night was something else. Anyway, after that, he thinks Johnny probably needs space. And so he goes about his day as normal. At dinner time, he sits down to eat with his family. Ainsley, Farrell and Carter are off somewhere else, having already made friends with some of the other teens in the camp. Ria and Will are squabbling over something or other. Luca and Sarah had a fight recently and are currently demonstratively Not Talking, even as they sit next to each other looking sullenly in opposite directions.

V sits at the end next to Tommy. Uncle Jon’s seated between Tommy and Bethany, while Yanna is trying to engage Luca and Sarah in conversation with little success. Together like this, it’s almost like it used to be, when it was just them. On the road and, before that, the farm.

‘So, V,’ says Tommy in a slightly hushed tone. ‘You’ve been spending a lotta time with a certain musician, haven’t you?’

V blinks and glances sideways at him. ‘Um . . . yeah. We’ve been hangin’ out.’

‘So . . .’ Tommy hesitates, then whispers, ‘He your output, or what?’

Looking down at his plate, V feels his face flush and is glad he’s slightly sunburnt so it won’t be so obvious. ‘No,’ he says very slowly, dragging out the ‘o’.

‘But?’ says Tommy, clearly sensing that’s not the whole story.

‘Buuut,’ V bobs his head from side to side, making a face, ‘I guess we’ve been . . . sleeping together.’

He sees Tommy try to hide a smile. ‘Thought as much. You’re being safe, though, right? Never know where those rockerboys have been. Plus, you don’t wanna end up pregnant, ’specially not if it’s not serious.’

V coughs, almost choking on a piece of soy meat. ‘Yeah,’ he says when the coughing’s stopped. ‘Yeah, we’re being safe.’ He smiles at Tommy.

Tommy was always the one V went to with questions about sex things. He’s always liked Tommy a lot. He’s always been around, as he and Uncle Jon have been together since before V was born. Since they’re not actually related, it felt less awkward to talk to him than to his parents or Uncle Jon, and he was never as close with Bethany or Lara. The only time Tommy referred him to one of the others was when V got his first period. ‘I don’t get those, kiddo,’ he said. ‘Better talk to your mom, just this once.’

V had struggled to comprehend this at the time. Yanna was a woman, and V was so sure he was gonna grow up to be a man. Tommy was the first person he talked to about that too. Tommy helped him pick his name, talked him through puberty when his new body was giving him anxiety, researched binding methods. V owes Tommy a lot. And if nothing else, he certainly owes him the truth.

‘It’s been about a week,’ he says. ‘We’re just passing time, having fun. He’s . . . an interesting person.’

‘If by interesting you mean drop-dead gorgeous, I absolutely agree.’ Tommy grins.

V laughs. ‘That too. But he’s . . . very complicated. Messy. Lotta baggage, I think. Which would be fine, if he’d actually unload some of it on me every once in a while. We had a conversation last night that turned weird and he got mad and fucked off. I think he thinks he needs to be tough.’

‘Ah. One of those.’ Tommy sighs. ‘Well, I dunno what to tell ya, kiddo. Except, don’t go into this kinda thing thinking you can fix him. That never works.’

V shakes his head. ‘No, it’s not like that. I just wanna be his friend, but feels like he won’t let me.’ He sighs. ‘Doesn’t really matter. From the sound of it, seems like he’ll be goin’ back to Night City soon, and that’ll be the end of it.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ Uncle Jon asks from Tommy’s other side.

‘Nothing,’ says V.

‘It’s private, you nosy prick,’ says Tommy affectionately, kissing Jon’s cheek. Jon turns his head and kisses Tommy on the lips.

This seems to distract Will and Ria from their discussion long enough for them both to loudly say, ‘Yuck!’

Everyone else laughs. V looks around at his family. He’s glad he has them. He may have lost some of them, but he still has all these people who love him. Johnny doesn’t have that. He and Santiago are more business associates than friends. He said he doesn’t know if he has any friends back in Night City anymore. He also said the Aldecaldos are his family now, but he so often keeps to himself. He seems to have two modes—party with everyone or sulk by himself. And for the past couple of weeks, he’s allowed V to be present while he sulks.

Just then, V sees something out of the corner of his vision, and he turns his head. Johnny’s standing not far off, looking at him. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and he’s hunching his shoulders a little. V hesitantly gives him a smile. Johnny returns an expression that could almost be interpreted as one.

Shoving what remains on his plate into his mouth, V stands up. ‘I gotta go,’ he says to the table at large as soon as he’s chewed and swallowed his food.

‘Not gonna help with the dishes?’ says Bethany.

‘I’ll get you all next time,’ says V.

Tommy glances at Johnny and gives V a knowing look. ‘See you later, kiddo.’

Hands in his pockets, V heads over to where Johnny’s standing. ‘Hey,’ he says when he gets there.

‘Hey,’ Johnny replies. His voice is even more gravelly than usual, and he clears his throat.

‘You okay? You look like shit.’

This time, Johnny actually manages half a smile. He scoffs, looking away. ‘Gonna go do some target practice. Wanna come?’

‘Sure.’ V nods. ‘Let’s go.’

They leave the camp. Not far off, Johnny sets up about a dozen bottles on some rocks. He passes V a revolver and picks up one of his own. They both take aim and start shooting. V gets five. Johnny gets only four. He glares at the revolver as if it were at fault. Then he glances at V. ‘I’da won if I hadn’t been hungover,’ he rasps.

‘Ah. That explains a thing or two.’ V puts down the gun and turns to look at Johnny, arms folded. ‘What’s goin’ on, man?’

Johnny sighs and wipes his forehead. ‘I don’t fuckin’ know,’ he mutters. ‘I . . . guess I lost it last night. Drank half a bottle of tequila and smoked half a pack of cigarettes in like twenty minutes and then passed out.’

V wants to do something. Touch him. Hug him, maybe. Tell him he’ll be okay. But Johnny looks like a skittish animal where he stands, like he might bolt at any second, and V’s worried he’ll scare him away, so he doesn’t say anything.

‘Why’d you have to start askin’ about that stuff?’ Johnny grumbles, kicking at the dirt with the tip of his boot.

‘Hey, man, you started it,’ V says. ‘You asked me about the farm and my family first.’

They stand like that in silence for almost a whole minute before Johnny lets out a long breath and says. ‘Yeah, fuck, okay. That happened.’ He frowns. ‘I hadn’t thought of any of that shit in . . . a real fucking long time. I freaked out and I took it out on you, and that was a dick move.’

‘It’s okay,’ V says when it seems like Johnny’s said his piece.

Johnny shakes his head. He wets his lips and finally meets V’s eye again. ‘When I was in Mexico, a friend took a bullet because of me. We joined up at the same time. He was a little older, looked out for me. And then he died, ’stead of me. So I ran.’ There’s something unspoken here, V realises. Maybe this is why Johnny doesn’t want to get close to people, because then that might happen again.

‘Gonna be perfectly honest with you, Johnny,’ V says with a lopsided smile, ‘I like you and all, but I’m not sure I’d take a bullet for you.’

Johnny laughs at that. It’s weak but not forced.

‘So, we good?’ V asks softly, finally reaching out and squeezing Johnny’s right arm.

Johnny looks down at his hand, then covers it with his own iconic silver one. ‘We’re good.’

‘Okay if I hug you?’ V asks. Johnny rolls his eyes and shrugs. V puts his arms around him anyway. ‘I get that this shit’s hard to talk about, so I’m never gonna push you into doin’ it. But if you ever want to . . . I’ll listen. ’Kay?’

For a moment, Johnny tenses and V thinks he’s made a mistake, but then Johnny seems to relax a little again. ‘Yeah, never gonna happen,’ he mumbles into V’s shoulder. Then he pulls back a little to kiss him instead. When he opens his mouth, though, V pulls away.

‘Fuck me, Johnny. Your breath smells like death. Not doin’ that till you brush your teeth, dude.’

Johnny moves his lips to V’s neck instead. ‘Come with me to my tent, then,’ he murmurs against V’s skin, then amends, ‘Actually, on second thought, stop by your tent to get some more of that sweet grass while I go brush my teeth, _then_ come to my tent.’

V raises an eyebrow. ‘It’s still early. Everyone’s up and about.’

‘Don’t care. Wanna fuck you.’ Johnny’s words make something stir in the pit of V’s stomach, because damn, it feels good to be wanted. ‘Besides, noisy camp means less risk of bein’ overheard.’

V laughs. ‘Fine, fine. Get off me and I’ll go.’

Johnny lets go of him and steps back. He’s still clearly tired and drunk sick, but he looks more like himself, somehow. They head off in opposite directions. V picks up some weed and his bong, removes his harness and prosthetic and leaves them in his tent, then goes to Johnny’s. He finds Johnny on his cot in just his underwear, having a swig of tequila. When V raises an eyebrow at him, Johnny just shrugs.

‘Hair of the dog,’ he says. ‘That weed’s gonna do me a world of good, though.’

V smiles and sits down next to him. They pass the bong back and forth until they both feel hazy and mellow, and then Johnny scoots in close and pulls off V’s shirt. He hasn't showered, and he reeks of sweat, booze and pot smoke, but none of that bothers V. They’re just the smells of someone who lives. Johnny starts kissing his torso, sliding his right hand down into V’s pants to stroke his bio-dick. V arches his back and moans softly as Johnny bites into his throat. He pulls his hand back again.

‘Get your pants off and lie down on your belly.’

V does as he’s told, getting naked and lying down. Johnny keeps his underwear on and gets on the cot, straddling V’s thighs. He runs his hands up V’s sides to his shoulders and starts rubbing them. V hadn’t thought getting a back rub from a metal hand would be very pleasant, but it is. Johnny’s touch is measured, he puts on just the right amount of pressure. As he works, he peppers V’s neck and shoulders in kisses.

It occurs to V, through the haze of lust and pot and Johnny’s hands and lips, that this is Johnny apologising. He works his way down V’s back, his mouth always trailing behind his hands, kissing and licking V’s skin. V shuts his eyes, enjoying the moment. When Johnny’s hands reach V’s ass, he slides them down the back of his thighs. ‘Bend your knees for me. Get your hips up.’

V bends his knees, raising his pelvis off the cot a little. Johnny spreads V’s knees apart a bit, then runs his hands up the insides of his thighs. He spreads V open, sliding a finger inside his cunt. After a moment, the finger is replaced with something warm and wet. V moans out loud. He raises himself up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder to see Johnny get down on his side and press his head in between V’s thighs to get at his dick.

‘Ah, fuck, Johnny . . .’ V groans. Johnny hums, a soft rumble in his chest that gives V shivers. He slides two fingers inside, moving them in and out at a slow but steady pace, and V arches is back, panting. ‘Fuck, I’m getting close,’ he whispers, and a few seconds later, his orgasm hits him. Johnny doesn’t stop, just keeps sucking, licking, and fingering his cunt until it’s almost too much, until it almost hurts. V grabs the pillow and bites it, unable to stay quiet as he’s hit with wave upon wave of pleasure. His body tightens and he feels like he can hardly breathe as he comes again. Once he can draw breath, he grits out, ‘No, stop . . . I can’t . . . !’

Johnny stops immediately, sitting up, and V lowers his pelvis onto the cot again, thighs shaking. ‘You okay?’ Johnny asks, just a hint of concern in his voice.

V utters a breathless laugh. ‘I’m . . . I’m fine. Was just getting a little intense, is all.’ He looks over his shoulder at Johnny again and finds him grinning smugly.

‘Like how I can just wreck you,’ he murmurs. He stretches out on top of V, pressing his lips to the nape of his neck. His breath is warm on V’s skin as he adds, ‘Makes me so hard.’

A pleasant shiver runs up V’s spine. He can feel it—Johnny’s cock pressing against his thigh through his underwear. ‘Then do somethin’ about it,’ V whispers. He cranes his neck and Johnny takes his mouth in a deep, sloppy kiss. His tongue tastes metallic, and V shivers again at the memory of what that tongue was just doing.

Johnny gets up to remove his briefs. ‘On your back,’ he says. He gets a condom out of the pocket of his leather pants, which lie discarded on the floor.

V turns over and Johnny returns to the cot, rolling on the condom. He gathers V’s legs and hoists them up over his left shoulder, lining up his cock and pushing inside in shallow thrusts. The angle is incredible, Johnny’s thick cock hitting all the right spots, and V shuts his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand.

‘Look at me,’ Johnny says, and V opens his eyes again. Johnny’s dark gaze is intense, so full of lust and maybe, just maybe, a small hint of affection. ‘That’s it, now,’ Johnny whispers, going deeper. ‘Eyes on me. _Fuck_ , you feel good!’

The praise goes straight to V’s groin. V’s whole body is quivering. He empties his mind, focuses on Johnny’s face, on his eyes, and just lets himself feel. It’s not long before he comes again, Johnny following a moment later, either unable or unwilling to hold back.

Johnny lets V’s legs down on either side of his hips and collapses on top of him, kissing his chest several times. ‘That,’ he says breathlessly, ‘was good.’

V smiles, running his fingers through Johnny’s hair, some of which clings to his sweaty forehead. ‘Yeah,’ V says softly, ‘it was.’

Johnny props himself up on his elbows and studies V’s face. He frowns. ‘I, uh . . . I think I need to head back to Night City. Not tomorrow or anything, but in a few days.’

‘Oh.’ V tries hard to keep the disappointment he feels out of his voice. He and Johnny are just messing around, he has no claim on him, and he doesn’t want one either. But he’s not in the habit of lying to himself, and saying he wouldn’t miss this would definitely be a lie.

‘You ever been?’ Johnny asks.

‘Uh, no,’ V replies, taken off-guard by the question. ‘I mean, yeah. Couple of times. Went to a ripperdoc there for my transition. But, like, I didn’t really see much of the city.’

‘Well, I was just thinkin’ . . . if you want to . . . you could come with. Just to hang out for a while. I could show you the city, we could hit some clubs, catch a few gigs . . . y’know. Just for a bit.’

‘You askin’ me to run away with you?’ V jokes, smirking.

‘I’m askin’ you to hang out,’ says Johnny. ‘For however long works for you.’ He shrugs. ‘Just thought you might have fun. Plus, good fuck chooms are hard to come by.’

V sighs dramatically. ‘You just want me for my body.’

‘Yup,’ says Johnny without missing a beat.

V laughs. Then he wets his lips, looking away for a moment. It’s tempting. He’s never spent time in a big city. The Badlands have always been his home. He knows Night City is a dangerous place, but he can hold his own in a fight. The thought of hanging out with Johnny some more is appealing as well. Finally, he nods. ‘Okay.’

‘Yeah?’ V is probably imagining the hint of excitement in Johnny’s otherwise steady voice.

‘Yeah. I mean, I should talk to my mom. She might not be keen on the idea. But I’m an adult, it’s not like she can stop me.’ He smiles. ‘So yeah. I’ll go with you.’

‘Well, that’s settled, then.’ Johnny gets off him, disposing of the condom, then lies down on his side beside him, pulling the blanket over them both. His cot is a little wider than V’s, though not by much. Johnny looks sleepy now, his eyelids drooping as he blinks slowly, his eyes on V.

‘Should, uh . . .’ V hesitates, wetting his lips. ‘I should prolly go. Let you sleep.’

‘If you want,’ says Johnny with a shrug. ‘Or not. Up to you.’ He yawns. ‘I don’t care.’

V is tired too, even though it’s still pretty early. He had a short and sleepless night, after all, and he feels thoroughly fucked out. And so he turns over on his side, facing away from Johnny, surprised when the other wordlessly drapes his arm over his waist. They’re not cuddling, just lying close out of necessity. They lie there in companionable silence, neither of them speaking. V listens as Johnny’s breathing evens out, feels the steady rise and fall of his chest against his back. And soon, V drifts off as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on why I prefer the 2020 definitions of input and output:
> 
> I think in terms of ports. An input port receives a signal that's output from something else. It's possible I think this way because I'm a sound tech and not an IT guy. You send output from a microphone or instrument to the input port on the mixer or I/O device. Either way, output is what a signal comes out of, not what you put the signal into. That's why I think output makes more sense for (cis)boyfriend.


	4. City of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Starstruck, crawling in the dead dirt. Spread a word to the wise... Lights flash, taking your breath away. Black spires, neon nights._
> 
> Johnny and V go to Night City. They go see Kerry Eurodyne in concert, but Kerry's not as happy to see Johnny as Johnny had hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Night City looked pretty different in 2020 from how it looks in 2077. When the bomb was set off in 2023, it destroyed pretty much the entire city centre, but before that, Japantown, Little China, and so on were part of central Night City. What's called Heywood in 2077 was South Night City, and the area then known as Heywood was an industrial area around 2077's Santo Domingo. I'm trying to reflect this layout of the city in my descriptions going forward, so if you feel confused, that'd be why. I'm using maps [from the following source](https://writerscthulhu.com/index.php/2020/12/30/night-city-maps/), which are based on the maps provided in Cyberpunk RED.
> 
> Chapter named after [Miracle of Sound's City of Dreams](https://youtu.be/03a8DoLL7hA), which is actually about Cyberpunk 2077.

It’s been a couple of years since V was last in Night City. It was when he had his top surgery. That time, he was in and out in a matter of hours and left the city before nightfall since the family was camped nearby. This . . . this is different. The sun is getting low as they approach the city from the south, casting its skyscrapers and megatowers in a golden glow. As the sun dips below the horizon, its light is substituted for thousands of glowing neon signs and lit billboards. V can do nothing but stare. Johnny’s driving the old pickup. V’s motorbike is stashed under a tarp on the bed of the truck.

Yanna was concerned when V said he wanted to go to Night City, as was the rest of his family. Uncle Jon questioned his sanity. Bethany worried he’d get himself killed. Only Tommy remained serene about it all, pointing out to the others that V is a grown, twenty-four-year-old man and not, in fact, a child. Then he went to Johnny and told him in no uncertain terms that the whole family would hold him personally responsible if something bad happened to V. For a skinny, unassuming, middle-aged mechanic, Tommy can be terrifying.

Still, they all accepted it in the end, and Johnny and V left for Night City mid-morning four days later.

Now, Johnny drives the dirty pickup truck through Pacifica and along San Morro Bay. They enter Night City proper from the north-east and hang a right for Japantown to reach the hotel Johnny’s booked for them for the next couple of weeks until he can sort out other arrangements. The truck looks totally out of place here, between tall, sleek buildings and the swanky vehicles it shares the cherry tree-lined streets with. V points this out to Johnny, who laughs.

‘Don’t worry. Got a preem ride waiting for us. Just gotta pick it up tomorrow, then we can scrap this hunk of junk.’

As he steps out of the car, V is hit with a miasma of stale air and car exhaust. Though the buildings look clean and sleek right here, the streets are dirty—littered with trash left by the thousands of humans who walk this way every day.

He has never felt less worldly than he does stepping inside their hotel. Everything seems to be made of glass. It’s so clean and sleek, it feels almost alien. V feels out of place in his torn jeans and dusty leather vest. Johnny, while not dressed much better at the moment, strides in with complete confidence and checks them in at the front desk. V just stands gawking while he does.

‘C’mon,’ says Johnny, once they’re all checked in. He picks up his bag and his guitar case. ‘Quit starin’ like a gonk.’

V shakes his head. He shoulders his own bag and follows Johnny to the elevator. ‘I’ve just never been in a place like this before,’ he says. ‘Can you blame me for takin’ it in?’

Johnny laughs at him. ‘V, this place isn’t even that flashy. I mean, it’s nice, but this is mid-range.’ He presses the elevator panel. ‘Got us a suite, though. All those royalties I’ve been rackin’ up for the past six years oughta be used for somethin’.’

They take the elevator to the top floor. There are two doors here, and Johnny opens the one on the left. The lights go on automatically when they enter.

The first part of the suite is a kind of living area with a couch and two comfy chairs, a large TV on one wall, a small, round dining table with four chairs, and a corner holding a minibar and coffee machine. Since this is Japantown, the walls are decorated with ornate scrolls and there are little pots of bamboo in all the corners. Opposite the entrance there are floor-to-ceiling windows framing a glass door that leads out onto a balcony. V immediately puts his bag down and strides across the room to open the door and step outside.

A cool evening breeze hits his face. The buildings around them are taller than this one, so he can’t see very far, but the view he does have looks pretty spectacular to him. The height is dizzying, giving V a sense of vertigo as he looks down. Below, the streets are crawling with cars and people, tiny from up here. There are walkways between buildings, criss-crossing above the streets, also full of people. The sounds of traffic fill V’s ears—car horns beeping and engines revving. Even from up here, with a breeze blowing in from the Pacific between the tall buildings, he can still smell the air pollution and exhaust fumes from the street below. And once again, the lights. So many lights. A huge, red neon sign on a nearby building bathes the balcony in hues of crimson.

Johnny steps out onto the balcony behind V, carrying two bottles of beer he must have gotten out of the minibar. He hands one to V and sips the other, leaning against the railing beside him. ‘Can’t believe I’ve actually missed this city,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘It’s been so long, but it hasn’t changed a bit.’

‘It sure is somethin’,’ V says, still staring. His eyes can’t take it all in. He steps back from the railing and takes a long swig of cold beer. 

‘C’mon,’ says Johnny, doing the same. ‘Let’s look at the rest of the place.’

There are two bedrooms, one on each end of the living room, featuring double beds and generous closet space. Both have large ensuite bathrooms with massive bathtubs.

‘Figure we’ll only need one bedroom for the most part,’ says Johnny. ‘But, never hurts to be prepared. Maybe we’ll have guests.’ He grins.

‘Maybe,’ V agrees. He sips his beer.

‘So, what do you wanna do tonight?’ Johnny asks. ‘Anywhere you’d like to go?’

‘First of all, this is your city, so you’re supposed to show me around. Second, I’m not goin’ anywhere tonight. I’m about ready to flatline. I want a bath, and some food, and then I wanna sleep.’ An actual bath. V’s only ever had them in crappy motels before.

Johnny rolls his eyes and ruffles V’s hair. ‘Fine. You get your bath, princess. I’ll get us some room service or somethin’. Any preferences?’

V raises an eyebrow at him. ‘You’re askin’ me? I’m an omnivore, Johnny, you know that. ’Sides, I wouldn’t even know what they serve in a place like this.’

‘Fine, I’ll figure it out.’ Johnny looks at him with an odd kind of smile on his face. He grabs the back of V’s head, sliding his fingers into his hair, and kisses the top of his forehead. ‘Enjoy your bath.’ Then he leaves the bedroom.

V fills the tub up with hot water. He finishes his beer, leaving the empty bottle on the sink, rids himself of his dusty clothes, and gets in the tub. He grabs the fancy soap in the basket above him and washes off the sweat and grime from a whole day’s travel. Then he just leans back and closes his eyes. He’s almost fallen asleep when Johnny enters without knocking.

‘Food’s here,’ he says. He looks V over as the latter sits up straight in the tub, blinking in the light. ‘Could just eat you, though.’

‘Fuck off,’ says V. ‘I’m starvin’. Maybe after we’ve eaten. _Maybe_. If I don’t immediately go into a coma. Pass me a towel, would ya?’

‘Nah, think I’ll just stand here and watch.’ Johnny smirks, leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest.

V rolls his eyes and stands up, water cascading off his body. Stepping out of the tub, he grabs a towel off the rack and, standing a little closer to Johnny than necessary, shakes his head, causing water droplets from his hair to spray Johnny’s face.

‘Hey!’ Johnny says indignantly. He wipes his face with his hand.

‘That’s what you get for not helpin’.’ V shrugs and starts drying off.

‘Whatever.’ Johnny dries his hand on his tank top. ‘I checked the net and there’s a gig tomorrow night I thought we might go to. Old friend of mine’s playin’.’

‘Oh yeah?’ V wraps the towel around his waist. ‘Who?’

‘Kerry Eurodyne.’

‘Wow! Really?’ V grins. ‘That’s nova!’

Johnny cocks an eyebrow at him. ‘It is?’

‘Yeah, I love Eurodyne’s music. I’d really like to see him live. I’da thought his shows were all sold out, though?’

‘What, you forget who I am?’ Johnny asks, sounding vaguely insulted. ‘I can get us into any venue in the city. ’Sides, Kerry’s my best friend. You do know we started Samurai together, right?’

‘’Course I fuckin’ know,’ says V. ‘Still cool, though. I’m looking forward to it.’ He grins, and Johnny rolls his eyes.

‘Okay, enough jabber. We got sushi waitin’.’

* * *

Before Johnny left Night City with Santiago, he put everything that mattered into storage. Not that he owned much he cared about; mostly it’s just his record collection, his guitars (except for one he left with Kerry) and, of course, his car.

Leaving V’s motorbike in the garage at the hotel, they drive the shitty old pickup to the discrete, secure storage facility. Johnny parks the truck outside, keys still in the ignition, with no intention of retrieving it. Let someone else have it. They enter the place, finding Johnny’s unit all the way in. He opens it with a key and a keypad. The space smells dusty, no one having been inside in six years. His things are stacked in storage boxes on shelves along the walls. He ignores those for now; no point in picking them up before he has a more permanent place to put them. Instead, he heads for the thing in the centre of the room, covered in a black canvas sheet. He pulls the sheet off.

V gasps as the car comes into view. ‘Fuck me, Johnny! Is that really your car?’

‘It really is,’ Johnny says proudly.

‘No fucking way! A 911 Turbo?’ V walks around the car, examining it excitedly. ‘Is it all original?’

Johnny nods. ‘Well, almost. Gave it some upgrades, y’know, for convenience. But the engine’s original, ’cept it runs on CHOOH².’

‘Oh, man . . .’ V looks like a kid at Christmas. ‘Can I take a look at it?’

‘Be my guest,’ says Johnny. ‘Just be careful with ’er.’

V opens up the engine compartment in the back, eyes lit up as he examines the inner workings of the Porsche. ‘This is fuckin’ nova, man. Preem ride don’t even begin to cover it . . .’

Johnny smiles, amused. It’s kind of cute how thrilled the kid is. He’s a mechanic, of course, so the chance to examine the engine of a vintage car like this one must be a real treat, but Johnny hadn’t expected him to be quite so childlike in his delight.

After a few minutes, though, Johnny says, ‘Okay, enough. You can geek out about it more later. Let’s go.’

‘Fine, fine,’ V says distractedly. ‘Just lemme—’

Johnny rolls his eyes. ‘V!’

‘All right, all right.’ V closes the hood again, grinning up at Johnny. ‘Can I drive?’

‘Fuck, no!’ says Johnny and gets in the driver’s seat.

They drive the car back to the hotel, filling up the tank along the way. Johnny delights in the feeling of the steering wheel in his hands. It’s been so long. It’s a fucking cliché for a man to be this in love with his car, but damn, if it ain’t the sweetest ride he’s ever had.

‘So, when’s this gig?’ V asks as they get out of the Porsche.

‘Doors at eight,’ says Johnny. ‘Plenty of time before then. Wanna catch some sights?’

* * *

They pull up outside The Hammer a little before eight. There’s a line around the block, but Johnny simply strides up to the entrance, bypassing the queue. ‘How you doin’?’ he says to the bouncer.

‘You on the list?’ the man asks gruffly, barely looking at them. He’s built like a brick shithouse, standing well over six feet tall on legs like tree trunks.

‘Prolly.’ Johnny shrugs. ‘Johnny Silverhand, plus one.’

The bouncer looks at him then. Johnny purposefully took off his jacket when they got out of the car and has it slung over his shoulder so his metal arm is fully visible. There’s no way anyone who knows who he is could mistake him for someone else. ‘No way!’ the bouncer says.

Johnny cocks an eyebrow at him. ‘You gonna let us in, or what?’

The bouncer doesn’t even look at the list. He just opens the door and lets Johnny and V inside without another word, stamping their wrists with _V.I.P._

V laughs as they step inside. ‘You didn’t even try to get tickets, did you?’

‘No need. You know how many times I’ve played this venue?’ And as if to illustrate his point, as they round a corner they come face-to-face with a massive poster advertising _Silverhand & Eurodyne, August 15_ _th_ _2012_.

‘Double bill,’ says V. ‘Nice.’

Johnny nods. ‘Yeah, we did that a lot after Samurai broke up. Universal signed us as kind of a package deal. Did guest appearances on each other’s records too.’

‘I knew about that bit,’ says V. He gives Johnny a sidelong glance. ‘Any reason why you didn’t just call Kerry to get us on the list?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Not really. Wanted to surprise him. _After_ the show, though. Let’s go get a drink now.’

They have a couple of beers while they wait. There’s a warm-up act that’s completely middle-of-the-road. Nothing to write home about, but they’re not completely shit at least. Once that’s done, Johnny drags V closer to the stage so they’ll have a decent view for the main attraction. They only have to wait a few minutes before the room is plunged into darkness again. An intro to a song Johnny hasn’t heard before starts playing. Then the stage lights come on, and there is Kerry. He takes the mic and starts to sing.

Kerry Eurodyne has evolved since Johnny last saw him play. His voice has matured more and has a slightly deeper quality to it. He’s clearly worked at it, with a vocal coach, maybe. His guitar playing is more confident too, his technique improved. Watching him, Johnny becomes more certain than ever about what he wants to do.

He knows Kerry sees him in the crowd. He notices on the third song when his guitar playing falters just a little bit, missing a note. The rest of the audience is oblivious to the slip-up, but Johnny knows this song well—he helped write it. V stands next to him, clearly digging the music, and fails to notice the look that passes between Johnny and his oldest friend.

V turns to look at Johnny, grinning. There’s that genuine childlike delight again, and V leans in close to his ear and says, ‘I love this song!’ Then someone nearby jostles him so he nearly loses his balance. V just laughs, but Johnny places himself behind him, putting his arms around his waist, and they watch the rest of the concert that way.

When the show’s over, they retreat upstairs to the VIP lounge and order another drink.

‘Man, that was a great show,’ says V, shaking his head and taking a sip of his bourbon. ‘Eurodyne can really play, can’t he?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘Yeah, he’s okay. Never be as good as me, though.’

V snorts. ‘You’re so fucking full of yourself. He’s got his own style. People don’t have to be like you in order to be good.’

‘ _No one’s_ like me,’ says Johnny smugly.

‘And thank fuck for that. Imagine the state of the world if there were _two_ Johnny Silverhands walking around.’

Johnny’s about to respond when someone else says, ‘Johnny fucking Silverhand.’

He turns around, and there’s Kerry, staring him down with dark eyes. ‘Hey, Ker.’

Kerry shakes his head, his look incredulous. ‘That’s all you got to say for yourself? What the fuck are you doing here?’

Johnny would never admit it, but that stings a little. He keeps his mask up, cocky smirk in place. ‘Came to see the show.’

Kerry scoffs. ‘Right.’ He glances over at V. ‘And who’s this?’

‘This is V. He’s a friend from the Aldecaldos.’

V smiles. ‘Hey, great show, man. I had a blast.’

Kerry ignores this, turning his eyes back to Johnny. He looks beyond pissed, working his jaw. His dark eyes are full of fire. Now that Johnny sees him up close, he hasn’t changed a bit. Same style, same haircut, same stupid bandana. ‘C’mon, gotta talk to you. Your _friend_ can wait here.’

Johnny sighs, drains his drink, and touches V’s bare forearm. ‘Hang out here for a bit, okay? I’ll be back soon.’

V grins, looking around the room. ‘Oh, I’m sure I can find something or someone to occupy me while you’re gone.’

Johnny rolls his eyes. ‘Slut!’ Then he lets go of V’s arm and follows Kerry toward the backstage entrance.

They don’t speak a word while they walk, but the moment the door to the dressing room is closed behind them, Kerry turns to Johnny, looking furious. ‘So, you’re back, huh?’

‘Yeah.’ Johnny slips his thumb into his belt hoop, cocking his hips. ‘I’m back.’

‘And you came here why, exactly?’

Johnny frowns. ‘What do you mean, why? I got back last night, saw you had a show today, wanted to see it.’ He heads for the couch in the corner. He takes his jacket off, depositing it on the armrest, and sits down, feet up on the table. Kerry remains standing, glaring at him. ‘Gotta say, not bad.’

Kerry laughs, entirely without humour. ‘“Not bad” . . .’ he repeats. Shaking his head, he goes over to the liquor cabinet. He pours himself a glass of something brown, downs it in one, then pours another, before sitting down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t offer Johnny a drink. For a long time, neither of them says anything. Then Kerry speaks. ‘So, after all this time, you come back here with a “hey, Ker” and expect everything to be okay?’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake . . .’ Johnny runs his hand through his hair. ‘I came ’cause I wanted to see you, okay? God, I’m too sober for this . . .’ He reaches into his pocket for his cigarettes and lights one, more for something to do than because he actually wants to smoke it.

‘Right. You wanted to see me. After literally years without a word.’ Kerry takes a sip, then nods in the direction of the VIP lounge. ‘You’re fucking that little tarmac rat, aren’t you?’

Johnny sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Ker . . .’

‘Just answer the goddamn question!’

With a shrug, Johnny decides to be truthful. ‘Yeah. Sometimes.’

Kerry scoffs, kicking the leg of the coffee table with the tip of his boot. ‘So what makes him so special?’

Johnny shrugs. ‘I like him, is all. You’d like him too, if you give him a chance.’

‘More’n you like me? He your output?’

Trying very hard not to roll his eyes, because this is a conversation he’s had way too many times, Johnny keeps his voice as level as he can. ‘No, Kerry. We’re friends and we occasionally mess around. Like people do.’

At that, Kerry seems to deflate. ‘Like people do . . .’ He looks up at Johnny, and his dark eyes are filled with some emotion Johnny can’t easily identify, nor does he want to. ‘You were gone for six years, Johnny. Six fuckin’ years, and you come back here and you’re fucking some kid—’ He cuts himself off, working his jaw. ‘You know what? Forget it.’ He drains his drink and stands up, turning away. ‘I should know better than to expect Johnny Silverhand to give a shit. Just get outta here.’

‘Ker. Stop.’ Johnny puts out the half-smoked cigarette, gets off the couch, and places his organic hand on Kerry’s shoulder. He squeezes, rubbing circles with his thumb. ‘I had a lot of shit to work through, I needed time to process. But I’m here now. And I wanna get the band back together, but I can’t do that without you. I could never do it without you. You know that.’

Kerry sags a little. ‘You’re a real shithead, you know that?’

‘It’s been said.’

Kerry laughs and turns around. He’s wearing that sad little puppy dog smile. ‘I missed you.’

‘Yeah. I actually missed you too, if you can believe that.’ And Johnny lets Kerry hug him. He even puts his arms around his friend in turn, holding him close for a little while. But then Kerry goes in for a kiss, and Johnny turns his face away. ‘Ker . . .’

‘Fuck.’ Kerry steps back. ‘Anyone but me, is that it?’

‘Fuck’s sake, Kerry, it’s not like that!’

‘Then what is it like?’

‘You never fucking change!’ Johnny throws up his hands. ‘I know you, Kerry. And as long as you keep carryin’ a torch like some gonk-ass teenager, I’m never gonna fuck you, so just get over it! Six years, and you’re still the same lovesick puppy. Tell me I’m wrong!’

Kerry says nothing. He stands there looking small, staring at his feet. His arms hang limp at his sides, his hands loosely clenched into fists.

‘Thought so.’ Johnny sighs, all his anger evaporating, because at the end of the day, this is just sad. ‘Look, it’s better this way. I’m goin’. Think about the band thing, and if you still wanna jam together, call me.’

‘Fine,’ is all Kerry says, and he still won’t look at Johnny.

‘It’s good to see you again,’ Johnny says softly. Then he picks his jacket up off the armrest, puts it on, and leaves.

* * *

‘So, that was Kerry Eurodyne.’ V leans back in the passenger seat of the 911, looking out at the passing Night City neon lights. ‘He’s hot.’

Johnny snorts. ‘Yeah, well, he hates your guts.’

V frowns, glancing at Johnny. ‘What? Why?’

‘’Cause we’re fucking.’

‘Oh.’ V returns his gaze to the passing lights. ‘So did you two have a thing, or . . . ?’

‘Nah, wasn’t like that. Or, it wasn’t like that for me.’ Johnny sighs. ‘Kerry’s my best friend, and we’d mess around sometimes when we were younger, but he had feelings for me so I broke it off ’cause I didn’t have feelings for him. And he can deal with it so long as he can pretend I’m straight.’

‘So why’d you tell him about me?’

‘I didn’t. He guessed. Wasn’t about to deny it.’

‘So you didn’t tell him I got a pussy?’

Johnny gives him a look of disbelief before turning his eyes back on the road. ‘The hell would I do that for? First of all, it’s none of his business, and I don’t randomly out people. And anyway, it doesn’t matter, you’re still a man.’

His words make V feel oddly validated, and he smiles.

‘You really think I’m that much of an asshole?’ Johnny grumbles, and V laughs.

‘I mean, you _are_ an asshole,’ he points out. ‘That’s kinda part and parcel with you.’

‘Thanks,’ Johnny says sarcastically. ‘And fuck you too.’

Chuckling, V reaches over and squeezes the back of Johnny’s neck affectionately. ‘Maybe _I_ should fuck _you_.’

Johnny utters a short, derisive laugh. ‘Yeah, no. I don’t bottom, even if you did have a cock to fuck me with.’

‘Well, firstly, I’ve got a perfectly good strap-on,’ says V. ‘And second, you’re not so fragile your masculinity’s threatened by a dick up your ass, are ya?’

Johnny scoffs. ‘Couldn’t threaten my masculinity if you tried, you brat.’

Leaning in close, V whispers in his ear, ‘Then what’re you scared of?’

With a small sense of triumph, V sees Johnny swallow and shift in his seat a little, the barest hint of pink entering his cheeks. ‘What would you even get out of it? Would it even do anything for you?’

V smirks. ‘As it happens, much like you, my strap-on goes both ways. Also, I’d get the pleasure of knowing I fucked Johnny Silverhand in the ass.’

Johnny laughs, more genuinely now. ‘You’re such a gonk.’ He pauses, silent for a moment, then adds, ‘Let’s just get back. Then we’ll see.’

As soon as the door to their suite is shut behind them, V grabs Johnny by the lapels of his jacket and kisses him sloppily. Johnny kisses him back, putting his arms tightly around him. V slides both hands up under Johnny’s tank top, circling his nipples with his thumbs, and Johnny hisses. They got so used to being quiet back at camp that now that it no longer matters, they still keep their voices down when they start getting hot and heavy.

‘You should shower,’ V whispers in Johnny’s ear, flicking his tongue out to lick his earlobe.

‘What, I smell or somethin’?’

‘No,’ says V, ‘but I need you clean if I’m gonna eat you out.’

Johnny freezes at that. His hips, which had started to gyrate against V’s groin, go still, and his wandering hands stop moving. V pulls back, looking up at his face.

‘You okay?’ he asks, suddenly concerned. _Did I just fuck this up?_

Johnny doesn’t answer at first, simply extracting himself from V’s arms and stepping to the side. ‘I’m fine,’ he says finally.

‘I’m sorry,’ V says, taking a step back. ‘I, uh . . . I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought . . .’ He swallows. What is wrong with him? It’s unlike him to feel this insecure, but now it feels like a lot hinges on what he says next. ‘We don’t have to, you know,’ he says softly. ‘I’m cool with whatever. I just . . . wanted to make you feel good.’

‘Yeah,’ says Johnny, working his jaw. ‘I just haven’t, uh . . .’

‘If you haven’t done it before I totally get if it’s—’ V was about to say ‘scary’, but he knows Johnny well enough by now to know he wouldn’t admit to fear like that.

Johnny snorts. ‘What makes you think I haven’t done it before?’ he says, giving V a quick sideways glance. ‘Just . . . not in a while.’

‘Well, we don’t have to,’ V says again, daring to step a little closer. He reaches out and, when Johnny doesn’t move away, places his hand on his shoulder, squeezing. ‘We can do whatever you want, or nothin’ at all if you prefer.’

Johnny turns to him and grabs him by the shoulders, pushing him up against the wall. ‘Why you gotta be so fucking _nice_ all the time?’ he growls. ‘It’s fucking unsettling . . .’

‘Fuck’s sake, Johnny.’ V wets his lip, looking up into the older man’s face, trying to read his expression and getting fuck-all for his trouble. ‘What do you want from me? I push, you pull away. I back off, you rush forward! Just . . . tell me what you want me to do.’ He looks away, staring at Johnny’s left shoulder, where metal meets flesh.

Johnny sighs and his head falls forward, his forehead pressed against V’s. He stays like that, silent, eyes closed, for several long seconds, then, ‘Just say you want me.’

V laughs softly. ‘What, that ain’t obvious? I want you, Johnny.’

Johnny captures V’s mouth in a searing kiss, shoving his tongue deep inside and grinding against him. ‘Might let you fuck me,’ he says, breaking the kiss for a moment. ‘But some other night.’

‘Okay,’ V agrees. ‘Some other night.’ He takes hold of Johnny’s belt and opens the buckle. ‘Want me to suck you off?’ he asks, just a little breathless.

Johnny nods. ‘Sure.’ V gets to his knees, pulls down Johnny’s pants and takes his cock into his mouth. This is good too. This is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Did you like it? Leave a comment! Did you hate it? Leave a comment and tell me why! I promise, I can take it. Or just hit that kudos button, that'd be cool of you too. Cheers!
> 
> You can also find me on Twitter as @thorn_wilde, and tumblr as thornwild.


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